Drop Dead Scene - Synopsis . . . Fetish – a non-living object worshipped by savages. At least that’s what the dictionary says. Drop Dead Scene is the story of the young singer and poet, Tom Scully, and his rock ‘n roll band named exactly that – Fetish. Seems like everyone’s got to have something to worship: money, sex, religion or fame . . .when it comes to fame, Hollywood is the mythic paradise. Everybody wants their own little piece, everybody wants to cut a deal, everybody wants to get paid, get laid, everybody wants a part in that Hollywood parade. But the kids in the band came from the wrong side of the tracks. Growing up was a hard as East-side concrete and just as broken up. Turns out, getting famous just fed the chemical flames of obsession. My name is David Blue and I managed the band. Money was my fetish in those days – something dead, had a demon in it. But I didn’t care what Marx had to say I needed some of that kind of magic, bad. On the other hand it wasn’t hard to see what my problem was gonna be. . . Tom was a local boy, just kinda fell into it. Looked like he came from some bad place, made the street look comfortable by comparison. Plus he was a natural performer. He burned; like whatever room he was in was too cold for him so he had to heat it up all by himself. Kinda guy was a born genius and a pain-in-the-a** all at the same time. Had the look of demonic omni-sexuality; like a brilliant shower of fireworks – beautiful and spectacular to watch, but destined to burn out. But underneath all that pout and persona he was really just a little hurt kid. Same as all the rest of us; just someone looking for love. But the band had great songs, had that X factor you just can’t put your finger on. But you just knew when you watched them they were gonna be stars. “When all the faces are lit up from the inside Lit up by the light of alcohol Got that glossy look, that junk-light shine Up through the skin, everybody marked up by Razor highs, lightnin’ kiisses Eyes bruised by bad telephone vibes legs jitter under the table They all cranked up on virus blue radio jive And yeah . . then I’m outta there Go out on those little silver wires connect up the stars”